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This afternoon Kramer went off to his forever home. I met his new mom (and her mom – Kramer’s new grandma!) halfway between Lancaster and his new home in New Jersey. It was a long day – I spectated at a CrossFit competition for most of the morning/early afternoon then drove to drop Kramer off and back home before my Hershey Half-Marathon tomorrow morning. More emotionally draining than anything else, though. Driving back home without him, knowing he was traveling in the complete opposite direction from me, was hard.

Kramer was admittedly one of the hardest fosters to give up for a lot of reasons. I’ve been lucky – the two fosters I’ve had on my own – Lady and Kramer – have been two of my easiest. I don’t think it will ever get easier than Lady, and Kramer – while far more active – was pretty darn easy, as well.

Pugs are so distinctive in their personalities – but all four of my pug fosters have all been typical Velcro pugs. And while it takes some time to get used to having a dog who must be with you at all times (i.e. total polar opposite of Lucy), it certainly is a great feeling to have a dog that visibly loves you. I adore Lucy, but I don’t get the outward displays of love from her like I did from Kramer.

Kramer also brought a lot of laughs into my life. He is such a funny dog and it felt good to laugh for the past two-plus months. He did something every day that made me smile and laugh. My apartment felt a lot livelier with him around.

In the last month, he’s also been extra great with Lucy. I’m not sure if she’s feeling friendlier toward him since he got neutered or if that’s just a coincidence, but she’s perfectly content to have him lay next to her. She wasn’t not okay with before then, it’s just happening a lot more lately.

This obviously begs the question as to why I didn’t just keep him and the reason is the same as all my previous fosters – it’s just not the responsible thing to do. While Lucy has done great with Kramer, it’s not like she’s ecstatic he’s around. The only dog she was ever sad to see go was Violet (f.k.a Snowy). She hasn’t gotten as attached to another dog since. Of course, it’s not like Lucy’s told me this. Maybe she loves Kramer more than she shows. But I don’t think she’ll mind going back to being the only dog again.

I’m also trying hard to save money. I renewed the lease for my apartment for another full year but I’ve put some thought into buying a condo after the next year of my lease. And my rent is going up $50/month – not an insignificant increase. The adoption cost for Kramer isn’t a big deal, it’s the cost of keeping two high-maintenance breeds healthy that’s a big deal.

Kramer also isn’t as easy a dog to travel with as other dogs, especially in comparison to Lucy. He barks. A lot. And I think he’d get on the nerves of my family when I visit. He’s just not my parents’ kind of dog. It’s selfish of me not to take that into consideration since I do like to visit them. I wanted to be selfish and keep him. But that wasn’t the adult thing to do.

And finally, there is zero possibility of me continuing to foster if I have two dogs of my own in a teeny tiny apartment. Plus, it’s not like fostering is a no-cost activity for me. I pay for toys, treats, food, etc. It’s not a huge cost, but feeding three dogs would be a big hit to the budget and push my apartment to maximum capacity. And fostering is important to me – I want to continue doing it. Maybe down the road when I have a larger home and a bit more spending money, keeping two dogs and being able to foster a third will be a possibility. It’s just not a possibility at this point in my life.

But I’m grateful Kramer has gone to such a wonderful home. He’s going to make his new mom very happy.

How could that face not make you instantly happy?!

And now, the usual “what I want to remember” part of any adoption posts –

– How every time I walked through the door he immediately started whimpering and clawing at the crate door for me to let him out; he was that excited I was home. There is no better feeling than someone (or some dog) who is that giddy to see you day after day.

– After he was let inside after doing his business, he made a beeline to the kitchen (where I keep their treats). If I was still outside with Lucy, it took him approximately 10 seconds to realize I wasn’t inside yet and he’d trot right back to the patio door and stare at Lucy and me outside, waiting for us to finish so he could finally get his treat

– His blankie obsession. Cutest thing ever.

– How he loved to roll around on the couch; he’d roll and burrow in and under all the blankies on the couch. At first I thought it was because he was trying to (and often succeeded) get his belly band off but he rolled and burrowed regardless; it had to feel so good after likely living in nothing but a crate for eight years.

– His struggles to get on the couch. Nine times out of 10 I’d lift him onto the couch. But if I wasn’t fast enough or wasn’t in the room, he would do it himself. It often took several tries but it was so endearing to see him try time and time again until he finally hoisted himself on the couch. And then the rolling would commence (see above point).

– His eyes. Pug eyes are the best, but especially his. They were a beautiful amber color and so expressive.

– How he had to poop at least two times per walk – often three times. We went through poo bags fast with him around.

– Watching his tail wag. Literally all you had to do was say his name and look at him and the tail started. The best was when I’d catch him mid-blankie gnawing and call his name or he’d see me across the room – he’d keep right on gnawing his blankie but he’d make eye contact with me and his tail would start going. Sweetest thing.

– I know I mentioned this before, but how much happiness he added to my life. It was simply impossible to be sad with him around.

Thus ends the adventures of foster #8. It’s going to take a while to rebound from this one, that’s for sure.

In many cases, that’s a good thing. Sometimes it works out well to be semi-oblivious when embarking on something new, unknown, different, etc. If I let the unknown hold me back, I would not be where I am in life right now and while life is up and down, I’m largely in a good spot.

This morning, one of my Facebook memories was of my first foster, Nellie (fka Cindy) from four years ago.

I look back on that experience and realize I had absolutely no freaking clue what I was getting myself into. It’s not a secret that when I started volunteering with SNORT, I had no intentions of fostering. Lucy was still a puppy – probably around seven months old or so. Our apartment had space but it wasn’t huge. My job hours were nuts (and remained nuts for the next four-plus years). ­

I’m not even sure what prompted me to change my mind about fostering. Because Nellie was a puppy mill dog, there were no photos of her (the Amish don’t allow people on their property to take photos of dogs they are surrendering). There was zero information about her besides she was a puppy mill mama who was being given up because she could no longer have litters.

But something in me just had to take her in, so we did. I picked her up sight unseen on a super cold, cloudy, depressing January morning, took one look at her, thought to myself “what have I gotten myself into?!” And promptly fell head over heels in love.

Meeting Nellie for the first time. Love at first sight.

Now with seven fosters under my belt (and hopefully more in the near future), I’ve come to realize there’s a whole list of things I didn’t know I didn’t know before I embarked on this adventure. I was clueless about a lot.

I Didn’t Know:1. I had such high levels of empathy and patience.
Patience has never been my strong suit. It’s why I’ve remained up in the air about wanting to have kids. But my level of empathy and patience has been practically unlimited with each foster. I don’t even have that much patience with Lucy. But with the fosters? Sure, I got upset when they crapped on the carpet or flipped the heck out during thunderstorms and kept me up for hours. But the amount of poop I cleaned up or the time I spent in the bathroom with a certain foster (Isaac!) during thunderstorms rarely fazed me. I’m not saying I’ve become Mother Teresa, but I’ve learned I have a higher capacity for patience and empathy than I previously thought.

3. I’d have to learn to not be squeamish
No sooner had I laid eyes on Nellie than I realized she was leaking…down there. And not pee. It was a…thick goo. Leftover from an infection or a recent litter, probably. But that poor girl just left a trail of gunk everywhere she went for a few days/weeks.

Many fosters have not been housetrained so there’s been countless pee puddles and piles of poo to clean up. So much laundry. Wiping of all bodily areas. I’ve seen tons of incisions, ears filled with wax and countless eye boogers. And let’s not talk about post-surgery poo…

Novalee once ate an entire bag of raw almonds. Let’s just say it became quickly apparent she hadn’t chewed said almonds when she spent three days walking around inside our apartment like a giant pez dispenser of almonds.

I’ve developed a stronger stomach over the past few years.

Buddy the Pug may have peed on me (and Lucy) a time or two. #maledogproblems

4. That I would handle adoptions better than I expected
Don’t get me wrong, I was a disaster when Nellie was adopted. And tears have been shed every single time a foster has been adopted. I miss them all. But I absolutely love the experience of fostering. It gives me a sense of purpose, something to keep me busy and selfishly, it feels so good be a part of saving a dog. If I had an unlimited budget and a bigger home, at least a few of these fosters would have probably wound up as “foster failures.” But I know going into each foster that I really can’t have two dogs – not enough money, not enough space – and that reality helps when it comes time to find a forever home for each foster. Now, there hasn’t been a foster in which I haven’t uttered the words, “I think I’ll keep him/her,” but deep down I’m fully aware it’s not the ideal option for either party involved.

Lady, my first foster all on my own.

5. It’s a total team effort
Six of my seven fosters came when I was living with Marty. While the interest in fostering was 100% me, actually fostering was a different matter. When more than one person is impacted by taking on a foster, it becomes a team effort. Maybe not with the equal distribution of work and time, but each person in the home has some added responsibility and stress.

It also takes help from my employers – days I may need to leave early for a vet appointment or even take an entire day off to shuttle a dog to a vet appointment or surgery.

And travel impacts everyone – most holidays I’ve had a foster so that impacts every family we visit over the holidays. Each foster is different and because each was not my own nor raised as my own, their quirks don’t necessarily make them ideal houseguests. So it does indeed take a village.

Backseat roadtrip buddies.

6. It’s stressful
I believe I’ve mentioned this in a previous post, but it is stressful to bring a foster home. The days leading up bringing home a foster are anxiety-ridden. What will he/she be like? Will they like Lucy? Will Lucy like them (probably not). Are they housetrained (probably not)? Will they eat (probably not)? Where will they sleep? Are they super sick? And then once I get them home? What does that bark mean? Are they scared? Why don’t they lie down and sleep? Is that cough normal?

I’m an anxious person by nature so the early days surrounding a foster are really stressful for me. Everyone’s different but stress is one of the overriding emotions for me when I’m fostering.

I’ll never forget one of the biggest sources of anxiety with Nellie – she refused to eat. I tried everything. Dry food. Wet food. Chicken and rice. Wet and dry food mixed. Straight bouillon. Nothing worked. Until it was suggested from a fellow foster mom that she probably had no clue what a bowl was or how to eat out of it. So, I scooped some food into a super shallow frisbee and voila! She was eating like a champ. But I was just so stressed out during those first few days when I could not get her to eat.

Making a mess; we soon progressed to a frisbee. Baby steps.

7. I would have a hard time saying “no”
I’m kind of a selfish person. Hence the reason I’m not sure I want kids. I like setting my own schedule (when work allows), taking naps on the weekends and essentially doing what I want to do when I want to do it. Fostering puts a crimp in that. Having a foster is double the work, often triple the work. After Nellie was adopted, we were going to take a break and reassess whether we wanted to foster again and how quickly. We’d had Nellie for about six months, I think, which is a pretty substantial amount of time. But roughly six weeks after her adoption, I got a phone call about Violet, saying she needed a new foster home and wondering if I was interested. “Yes” may have slipped out before I could give serious thought to it. Oops.

So despite being a self-proclaimed “selfish” person, I’ve found myself saying “yes” a lot more when it comes to fosters.

I’m not quite sure how you say “no” to that face.

All of this is to say that fostering is a big (and important) commitment. But there isn’t a single foster experience I regret. Each dog has meant so much to me and I can’t emphasize how much the benefits outweigh the stressors.

Four years today ago my life changed in the biggest, best way possible. I brought home my first foster, Cindy (now Nellie).

Looking back on my blog posts from the first few weeks we had her, I had forgotten how much I didn’t know!

Cindy was a puppy mill mama to a “T,” and while they are the most rewarding fosters, they are also the most work, the most depressing (because of their pasts) and the most stressful. I had forgotten she refused to eat for the first few days, snapped at Lucy and had fluids leaking everywhere. I forgot she had no idea what toys were, what food bowls were and what a soft, comfy couch was.

She was quite the complicated foster and yet from day one I was hooked. I can’t fully express how rewarding fostering her (and every other foster) was. It really hit home when she was adopted. We drove her to her forever home and after getting her settled with her new family, Marty and I got ready to leave. And then she followed us as we made our way to the front door. I remember sitting in my car and seeing her standing at the glass door watching us. It just about broke my heart and I cried the whole way home. But looking back on it I realize the fact that she wanted to follow “her” humans meant I did what I was supposed to do. I made her trust humans; I let her know people can be kind, unlike the humans from her past; I taught her what being a pet is.

Cindy was the first of six fosters to date. The stress of the first few days with each foster always makes me question why I do it but then after we settle in a new routine, I wonder why I ever questioned my decision.

The rest of my fosters were equally rewarding:

Cutie.

“I like to make you look like you have no idea what you’re talking about.”

Clearly I’m more than anxious to foster again but now that I’m living on my own in a teeny, tiny apartment, I need to wait for the right foster. My complex doesn’t allow bulldogs (I got in before that rule was passed, so Lucy is fine but I’m beyond annoyed) so I’ll have to wait for a pug or Boston from SNORT. I work further from home than at my previous job which is a negative but I do have weekends free so I know I can make it work. I won’t pretend it will be easy to foster and be in charge of the care for two dogs but I really need to foster again. I have a few hobbies but NONE bring me this level of fulfillment.

I’ll have an update this weekend after Isaac and I attend our group dog-walking session tomorrow. I’ve narrowed down the trigger for Isaac’s aggression to me (or maybe all females but no other female has walked him) so I’m both nervous and looking forward to the walk so we can get a handle on Isaac’s behavior around other dogs.

Anyway, that’s a post for later this weekend. Today’s post came to mind when the trainer said that Lucy was an omega dog. Here a definition I found online:

These dogs are what I consider, to be the “low man on the totem pole”. They quite often can be very sweet, but lacking in self-confidence. They choose to move through life, trying not to create a fuss. These dogs can be challenged or even attacked, by the classic Beta dog. The Beta dog knows that they can dominate or rule this personality and quite often, choose to do so.

Ok, first – not all of this applies to Lucy 100 percent, but it’s awful darn close. Second – our trainer believes the use of the word dominance is overused with dogs and isn’t the case with Isaac. However, a lot of what is stated above is absolutely true of Lucy. She’s always been the low (wo)man on the totem pole although as negative as that sounds, before Isaac (B.I.), it worked out beautifully with our other fosters. She was more than happy to be lower than Cindy/Nellie (who was a Beta dog but was far more “nice” in expressing that than Isaac). I believe both Snowy (now Violet) and Buddy were omega dogs, as well, and thus everyone got along – they were ALL low on the totem pole, so to speak! No one tried to fight for a higher position. They were happy not to have that stress. Violet and Lucy were two peas in a pod. There was never, ever a single issue between them. It was glorious, especially now that we have Isaac against which to compare things.

I mean, come on! They were best buds.

Essentially, Lucy is obliviously happy as the only dog or with another omega dog. And she’d probably be in heaven with an alpha dog (which as the trainer explained are very rare).

Now, here’s Isaac, the Beta dog, according to the same website:

This is the dog that I see more frequently in our Board and Train program.This is definitely the dog that challenges the companion dog owner over and over. Quite often, the Beta dog is also very dominant and may need to be on a strict Nothing In Life is Free program.The Beta dog may be barky, mouthy, reactive, and unwilling to accept the human as its leader. This dog spends its life, if untrained; challenging every day any form of control. These dogs are quite often, given up to Breed Rescue or to Shelters, as they are “too much” for many dog owners to handle willingly. Quite often in dog play, they cause fights by playing too rough or intense, they do not read nor accept other dog’s body language. They may be clearly possessive of prized items such as toys, rawhide, food, or even fighting to get all the attention from their owners in a multi dog household.

Um, yeah, that’s Isaac and it’s clear why we have issues at home.

The reason I believe that Cindy was a beta dog is that she did not hesitate to put Lucy in her place; the difference was it took one snap from Cindy and…that was it. Lucy backed off, Cindy laid back down and things were back to peace and quiet. And the two of them got along beautifully 95 percent of the time; they snuggled, they went outside together, they took walks together before Cindy had to undergo heartworm treatment.

And the reason Lucy and Isaac don’t get along is that Isaac is much more physical in his beta dog ways and he can physically overpower Lucy. Cindy absolutely could not do that.

I love(d) Cindy but physically she was no match for Lucy.

Anyway, I meant for this to be a much more lighthearted post; I mean, essentially I’m calling Lucy a stupidly happy dog! Which is a good thing, really. And part of the reason I want to “fix” Isaac so badly is that I hate for that happy part of Lucy to be lost, even if temporarily.